


Amen

by being_alive



Series: Mini-Fics [5]
Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types, Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare, Romeo et Juliette - Presgurvic
Genre: F/M, I'm Sorry, Older Man/Younger Woman, POV Third Person, Slight Religious Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-08 18:08:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18628507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/being_alive/pseuds/being_alive
Summary: It is a little past midnight when Rosaline comes to the front door of the chapel.





	Amen

**Author's Note:**

> Writing this seemed like a good idea at the time.

It is a little past midnight when Rosaline comes to the front door of the chapel. She is devout enough that her parents don't question her coming here, or at least not since she made up something about experiencing troubling dreams and seeking counsel on them, even if they do wonder about the odd hours. They would wonder more if they knew her true reason for coming here, but they believe her to be chaste, and frustratingly so. 

If only they knew the truth, she thinks, smiling to herself as she knocks twice upon the door. It doesn't take long for Friar Lawrence to come to the door, and even less time for her to step inside and for the door to close behind her. Rosaline's smile broadens at the sight of him, and he smiles at her in return, happiness and something darker showing in his grey gaze as she steps forward and wraps her arms around his neck. He kisses her, his arms circling around her waist. 

At some point they make their way deeper into the chapel, to the room he uses for a bedroom. Rosaline steps away from the kiss in order to strip herself of her shoes and dress and underthings. She stands back, watching Friar Lawrence, and waiting. He quickly disrobes as well, before stepping back to her, kissing her once more as they move to the bed, and then they fuck. 

Except perhaps that isn't quite the right word, but it's the only one that even shows a semblance of appropriateness. Making love doesn't fit, not really, because this isn't love, not really. Fornication is perhaps closer, but seems a bit too impersonal when this is perhaps the most personal experience she's ever had. So _fucking_ it is, despite the vulgarity of the word. 

Though perhaps this isn't quite so impure as it normally would be, since he is who he is, or at least that's what she tells herself.

After, Friar Lawrence gets up, off, and out of her, striding to fetch a damp cloth while she lays there, sated, watching him. He returns to the bed, pulling down the bedsheets, and she spreads her thighs wider to allow him to bring the damp cloth between her legs and clean away his seed and her fluids from her skin. He wipes himself clean as well and then tosses the cloth away and joins her in bed. 

Friar Lawrence lays down beside her, on his stomach, while Rosaline turns to lay on her side, one arm outstretched towards him. Her fingers gently trace the newly-healed marks on his back and he turns his head to look at her as he says, "You should give Romeo a chance. He's a good boy."

Rosaline raises her hand from his back to push strands of reddish blonde hair from her face as she replies, "Perhaps, but he's still just a boy, no matter how good he is. I want you, Friar, because you are a man and not a boy."

"Fair enough that I am a man, but a man of God, and you are still but a girl, and barely more than a child," Friar Lawrence retorts, and anger grows within her because he knows as well as she does that she became a woman nearly two birthdays ago. She fixes him with a glare as he shifts onto his back and then sits up to gaze upon her face better as he continues, "You and I shouldn't even be seeing one another like this."

"And yet here we are," Rosaline says in return, sitting up as well, the sheets pooling around her waist. His grey gaze flicks down to her breasts, lingering, and she knows she still has him. 

With a small, private smile, she moves to straddle him. She sits with a thigh on either side of his hips, and one of his hands comes down to stroke over the skin of one. 

"Here we are," Friar Lawrence replies, grimly, reverently, guiltily, and kisses her.


End file.
